


We Were This Close (To Makin' It)

by ErenLeger270



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based off requests, Bisexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Male Friendship, Multi, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:50:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErenLeger270/pseuds/ErenLeger270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even After You're Gone, There's Still An Imprint--A Particular Shape That I Recognize As Your Absence. But I Had Tried.</p><p>We Were This Close (To Makin' It) is a Collection of One Shots for Carl Grimes & Ron Anderson requested on tumblr~ Requests are open here too, just comment or shoot me a message. The prompt can be pretty much anything (which is why this is not rated) and written as descriptive or a phrase/quote, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidentally Playing Big Spoon

## Prompt: Carl and Ron “accidentally” cuddle. Big spoon!Ron + Little Spoon!Carl

* * *

 

 

Ron was never a graceful sleeper.

In fact, it wouldn’t be an understatement to call him _excessively clingy_ , considering that he usually woke up with _something_ in his arms every morning.

Blankets, pillows, the jackets that he just throws on his bed because screw it, his beanies; name it and he’s probably cuddled with it at one point in his life.

He’s even smothered his brother in his sleep on numerous occasions, though surprisingly, it doesn’t stop Sam from coming to his room because of his frequent nightmares. The dreams must be pretty bad if Sam was willing to put up with the constant unconscious cuddling, he figured.

Honestly, the involuntary habit was a little more than embarrassing and he wished he could say that his mother didn’t have a photo album dedicated to snapshots of this “problem” of his.

But at the moment, Ron was only wishing that he hadn’t let Carl Grimes spend the night at his house. Or in his bed. Or in his arms, actually. Literally.

_Quite fucking literally._  

Ron had never been so horrified in his life before, waking up and immediately going stiff at the acute sensation of soft hair brushing against his face. Once the strands tickled his nose, he was wide awake and very much aware of his terrible situation.

For one, this was not Enid’s hair because he was absolutely sure that they had broken up two days ago. Plus, she had never been fond of being latched onto whenever he slept next to her and if it had been her, she probably would have tried scooting away. 

And it was most definitely not Sam; the kid wasn’t this big, especially in comparison to Ron. He didn’t scoot away like Enid would, but he wasn’t this still whenever he slept.

And then, it all started coming back to him. Playing video games, drawing animals with their eyes closed, raging about comic book plot holes, flicking pudding back and forth at each other, not sleeping until really late at-

Yeah, this was not good.

There was practically no space between the two of them; Ron’s body contorting perfectly around Carl’s back, his face was buried into his hair and Ron accidentally breathed through his nose instead of his mouth, taking in the faint smell of chocolate pudding (oh yeah, he had gotten some of it in Carl’s hair, hadn’t he? _Oops_ ). The arm he had wrapped around Carl’s waist was completely frozen, unsure what to do. 

No, his entire body was frozen and unsure what to do. Here he was, practically clinging to Carl’s smaller frame and he feared that even moving so much as a centimeter would wake this kid up at a moment’s notice.

Carl was un-moving and absolutely still, breathing so softly that Ron could hardly feel it even with Carl’s back pressed against his chest. He wanted desperately to get out of this position but he knew the guy would probably wake up the moment Ron stirred. He was so scared that he was holding his breath even.

Because if Carl woke up, that would be bad. REALLY bad.

Ron wasn’t sure what he would do if Carl woke up and he really didn’t feel like having to explain this to him. Any other time would be better, just not when they were in the big spoon/little spoon position. The situation was already awkward enough.

So, he waited in a long, tense silence and eventually built up the courage to move away, but right when he was about to pull his arm back, Carl spoke,

“You’re fine, Ron.”

The words were spoken softly, unbiased and subtle. There wasn’t any disgust in the Grimes’ voice, not like what Ron expected, and the lack of sleepiness in his tone had Ron wondering if he had ever been asleep in the first place. It surprised him nonetheless, and he initially thought that maybe Carl was just _being_ nice, just saying that it was okay just so that he didn’t hurt the others’ feelings by telling him to let go.

Ron stared at the back of Carl’s head for sometime, uncertain of what he wanted to do. “Sorry….” He couldn’t even bring himself to explain his lack of limb control in his sleep, his mouth was too dry to say much more than that one word.

“I said it was okay,” Carl said, not even bothering to turn around–or move, for that matter. They were flush against each other and it didn’t seem to concern Carl one bit. “You don’t have to move if you don’t want to.”

“Sorry….” Ron whispered again.

He thought to pull away and just turn his back to Carl, hoping that would be the end of that, but he couldn’t.

_Literally._

Ron had no idea when Carl had grabbed his arm, but he did, and he had an uncanny death grip on the arm Ron had wrapped around him.

It may not have looked like it, considering that Ron was physically bigger than Carl, but the Grimes’ kid was strong, much stronger than he was. It made Ron realize that he really needed to start working out and he slowly sunk back into a defeated heap, hiding his face in the back of Carl’s neck before muttering, “sorry, Carl. It was on accident, I swear.”

Much to Ron’s surprise, Carl laughed at little, making the older boy perk up the sound. “Come on. What did I say?”

“It’s okay.” Ron mumbled quietly.

“Yeah,” Carl responded, gradually releasing his grip on the other’s arm. “It is okay.” The way he pulled away seemed almost reluctant and achingly slow, but even though he was no longer holding on, Ron was.

Nobody had ever told him that it was okay, not even Enid had back when they were dating. Whenever he apologized to her, she usually said things like “don’t worry about it” or, “just drop it,” and he never felt like it was ever really dropped.

The fact that Carl was essentially telling him that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing–nothing _annoying_ about it, had Ron’s stomach flipping, but in a good way.

It took a few seconds, but he soon scooted as close as physically possible to Carl before settling into the warm body of the smaller male. “Is it okay if I accidentally cuddle you more often…?”

There was a long silence, and for a terrifying second, Ron wondered if he had said the wrong thing. That is, until he felt the dark-haired kid sigh obnoxiously. “Next time, I get to accidentally be the big spoon.”

Ron hummed. “Alright,” he said eventually. “…..but only on accident.”

“Only on accident,” Carl agreed.

Neither of them could see the other smiling in the dimly lit room.


	2. I Could Give You Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rarl Request Prompt #2

##  **Prompt: Ron contemplates shooting Carl, but can’t go through with it.**

 

* * *

 

 

“Sam. Hey, just look at mom…”

That’s what Ron had told Sam to do. Or had _tried_ to. But it seemed like a hopeless situation; surrounded by a horde of walkers with nothing more than a sheet of blood to shroud them.

They were supposed to keep quiet, were supposed to blend in with the walkers as if they were one of them. And they had managed that. Yeah, they had managed that for a short while, and Ron almost thought that Carl had been right all along when he said that they would make it.

Along the way, they had stopped in order to change the plan. Father Gabriel left with a frightened Judith under his bloodied sheets and Sam had refused his mother’s offer to go with him. 

And somehow, Ron ended up with Carl leading him, holding him–or his hand, to be specific. To his surprise, it was more comforting to be following him, to be trailing behind him with no other way to go then towards him. And that was because, if his words weren’t _just_ words, if his words were the truth, he would lead him and his family out of this _alive_.

Honestly, that was all he wanted. His anger towards Rick for killing his father and the betrayal he felt, seeing Enid place her hand over Carl’s as if they had known each other for longer than she had him… all of that could wait. Or, perhaps eventually, it could disappear for good. But only if his mother and Sam made it out of this _alive_.

Only if Carl Grimes made sure to hold true to what he said back in the garage.

 _‘We’re gonna make it,_ ’ he had said.

Ron couldn’t believe those words now, watching his little brother shake his head and murmur to himself as if he were trying to wake up from a bad dream. Sam’s face was contorted into a broken, fearful semblance. His hair was damp from sweat and even though he looked at his mother; he looked right through her at the same time.

“Sam, I need you to be strong….” Jessie said, tugging at his hand to get him moving. “I need you to act like you’re strong, okay?”

He wasn’t budging. He was just shaking his head. The only thing that was coming out of his mouth was, “I don’t wanna….I don’t want to…. I don’t…” He was sobbing and muttering, and his voice was like broken fragments, cracked and hoarse. 

It turned into screams within seconds.

Sam’s voice was like a dinner bell, and walkers were upon him faster than anyone could have seen coming. Two, and then three were on him, and he was screaming, small body brought to the ground by the walking creatures.

Suddenly, Ron’s head was spinning and he grew dizzy. He was so dazed that he couldn’t even see his brother anymore, only seeing the spot that he once stood at completely overwhelmed by the growing numbers of walkers joining to feast on his wailing sibling.

Jessie screamed, too.

The sight of her son being devoured horrified her so much that she couldn’t stop screaming. No, she _wouldn’t_ stop screaming, not for the son that she had just lost.

Ron wanted to scream, too. But he didn’t have the energy to do so. His feet didn’t even want to cooperate with him at the moment, knees ready to give out underneath him as the image of Sam being surrounded replayed over and over again in his mind, haunting and taunting him.

His throat was dry and his voice was gone. “Mom….? Mom….?” He mouthed, trying to maintain his own sanity. His words were hardly a whisper and he doubted that his anguished mother could hear them over her own loud sobbing.

Carl pulled at Jessie’s arm, trying to coax her away from what remained of her youngest son. “Jessie….” He tugged. “Jessie, come with us.” Again, harder this time, and nothing. 

She would not move.

Her crying attracted walkers, and she was soon taken as well. Two, and then three. Four. They were upon her and she suffered a fate similar to Sam’s. She was gone far too fast; there was no resistance, no screaming on her part. It seemed she had just given up and accepted the end.

Ron’s eyes grew watery and filled with tears, watching the scene unfold before him. First his father, then his brother, and now his mother; all of them gone before he even had the chance to say goodbye. He couldn’t comprehend the losses, but somehow managed to watch as his mom and brother left his life.

When Ron found out his father had been killed, he was initially despondent, and then eventually livid. Pete had beaten him and his brother, had thrown around his mother and occasionally smacked her, but that somehow didn’t matter to him in the aftermath of it all. He had left the house and it hadn’t ever crossed Ron’s mind that he would never come back home after that.

Rick had taken his father away before he knew it, and it pissed Ron off that the man never even considered the people who might suffer because of his actions. 

It pissed him off then, but right now, he felt so numb on the inside that he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Everything was just a blur.

Ron felt a jerk of his arm and snapped out of his dazed thoughts almost immediately. Carl had never released the strong grasp on his hand, and his yanking motions were tugging him along just a little bit. Curious, he peered around the Grimes boy to see what was going on and quickly noticed the death grip his mother still had on him.

Carl wasn’t holding onto her anymore, but her fingers were wrapped around his wrist tight, unrelenting and definitely not letting go anytime soon. No matter how hard he pulled, Jessie would not let go.

In the corner of his eye, Ron saw Rick move, saw him raise his axe and bring it down upon his mother’s arm. When the blade dug deep into her skin and dented it, Ron flinched, his heart skidded and his stomach turned. He could have sworn that he felt that blow as much as his mom had. 

But the most horrifying part was that one time was not enough. He was forced to watch Rick raise the axe again, and bring it down again. 

And again.

The third time, Jessie’s arm gave in and Carl fell back, stumbling to the ground and dropping a gun.

To be honest, it was all a blur from that moment on until Ron was pointing that same gun at Rick Grimes. He couldn’t recall picking it up or even seeing it fall into the grass. All he knew was that it was now poised at the murderer of his father and his finger was resting on the trigger with the safety off, waiting for the perfect time to pull it.

Rick looked past the now standing Carl, who whirled around to see Ron pointing the pistol at his father.

At this point, Ron felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. His vision blurred with the tears that were building up in his eyes and his hands were trembling against the cool material of the pistol. “You…..” His voice was small, broken and barely an utter. What he thought was grief seemed to have converted to anger as he replayed the recent deaths of his family, fresh in his mind. “You….” He whispered, glaring at Rick with a clenched jaw.

Yeah, this was all his fault, Ron thought. Ever since he and his group had came to Alexandria, there was nothing but trouble happening left and right. They had lost so many people because of them, and those deceased included his father, and now his mother and brother as well.

If they hadn’t ever came here, nothing bad would have ever happened. His mother and Sam would have never….

Carl stepped forward, in front of his father, and right into the line of fire, raising his hands up as if admitting defeat. There was a sort of saddened look on his face, but it was much different from the kind of look he used to give Ron. It wasn’t an expression of pity, but rather of sympathy.

“Listen, Ron….” Carl started, fading out momentarily as a walker shuffled past him and resuming once it was far enough away. “There isn’t time to talk about this now….so come on, take my hand.” In offering, he held out his hand towards the Anderson boy, inching forward cautiously. “Please. We need to get away from here.”

Ron stepped back and away from Carl, keeping the gun raised. He was blinking back the tears that still threatened to leave his eyes.

He knew that Carl meant well. The moment Carl had offered him his hand earlier that day, he realized something. He realized that Carl Grimes was never as bad as he had made him out to be. Through everything that he had thrown the boy’s way; the pushing and shoving, the arguing, the attempt to kill him back at the house, no matter what he did, Carl had never given up on him.

And he couldn’t deny that a person like that was worth keeping alive. However, it seemed that the phrase _‘like father like son’_  didn’t apply to Rick and Carl. As far as Ron was concerned, Rick was a monster and always would be one.

A monster who got his entire family killed in a matter of months.

“Move,” Ron said, adjusting his grip on the pistol. “Get out of the way.”

“I’m not moving,” Carl replied quietly, hand still offered to the Anderson. “If you’re going to try to shoot my dad, you’re going to shoot me, too.”

The sound of walkers seemed to be turning into background noise to Ron, but it was apparent that Michonne wasn’t feeling the same way, ducking back when a walker passed by her. She placed a hand on the hilt of her katana and glanced at the man standing behind Carl. “Rick….” She warned.

He ignored her, seemingly in awe at the way his son was handling the situation considering how he watched so intently.

The shaking of Ron’s arm was a lot more recognizable now, his shoulders quivering angrily. “I’ll shoot you, too, then. For mom, and my brother…. and my dad…”

“But would they really want that for you…?” Michonne asked, stealing Ron’s attention for a moment. “Is this the sort of thinking your mother raised you on?”

He looked at her, made eye contact with her unwavering gaze and actually thought about her question. He knew the answer right away, but spent more than a couple of seconds thinking about it. His mother most definitely wouldn’t have wanted this; he knew she would have been hurt to know he so much as even considered such an idea. 

And Sam probably wouldn’t have either; Ron couldn’t imagine looking his younger brother in the eyes, knowing he did something like that. Would that have made Sam afraid of him, too? Like he was afraid of their father?

_Was that his mistake? Was this something that his father would have done…?_

Someone’s hands wrapped around his own, brushing against the hand that held the pistol. Startled, Ron nearly pulled the trigger, but was relieved that he hadn’t as he would have shot Carl Grimes right through the heart. 

Carl had closed the space between them, enough to where the barrel of the gun was right against his chest. There was no fear in his eyes, almost as if he were confident that he wouldn’t get shot tonight. He had that same stupid, pitying look on his face again. The one he had given Ron back in the garage; the one he _despised_ with a fiery passion.

Ron almost thought to pull the trigger, then. For one, he would have been wiping that dumb look straight off the Grimes’ face. Two, it would leave a hole in Rick’s heart that he could never heal from. And three, they would most likely kill him right afterwards. 

Then, he’d be done with this stupid world.

But then Carl called his name, told him to really  _look at him_ , and he made eye contact with him reluctantly.

And he realized that the look was anything but the same one from the garage. One that was apologetic and genuine, not pitiful and patronizing. He was not looking down on Ron at all, but rather trying to give him _hope_.

“We’re gonna make it,” Carl said, managing to somehow gently pull the gun from Ron’s grasp without any resistance. He then offered his hand once more and a small smile to accompany it. “ _You’re_ gonna make it.”

Ron didn’t bother to get the gun back.

He just wanted to hold Carl’s hand.

“…Yeah….” Ron reached for the smaller hand and held on tight.


	3. Eye am scared of snakes!!

 

##  **Prompt: Carl has an irrational fear of snakes and while Ron and him are walking through the woods, they find a snake, Ron picks it up and teases Carl until Carl finally breaks down.  
** ****

##  **Note: This is canon divergent. Takes place after 6x09; Sam and Jessie were killed like their canon deaths and Carl was still shot in eye.**

 

* * *

 

 

Ron was enjoying the walk, even if he was a little anxious about being outside the safe walls of Alexandria. Carl had started offering to take him out on trips more frequently and though he was reluctant at first, he eventually took it as an opportunity to become more acquainted with the world he was living in. It wasn’t a bad idea, considering that he finally recognized his locked away fear of the walking corpses that contributed to the death of his mother and brother.

Plus, Ron thought it was nice hanging out with Carl Grimes this much, even if he was still convinced that the guy’s father was a bigger douche than he was, and that definitely deserved a trophy (because he was now very aware of how impulsive and stupid the stunts he pulled with Carl were). 

He hadn’t really gotten to spend much time with Carl since the night his family was killed, and he couldn’t deny that he was partly to blame. After watching the walkers devour both his mom and Sam, he had lost his head. 

He had picked up the gun that Carl dropped when Rick freed him from his mother’s grip by taking an axe to her wrist. He had raised it and meant to plunge a bullet into that man’s head….

But Carl had lunged for it. And Ron would admit that he wasn’t thinking at that moment. He could admit that he thought Carl was a threat at the time and he resisted. And in all the confusion and the struggling, Ron’s finger pulled the trigger.

And a bullet managed to graze Carl’s eye….enough to blind him.

It took Carl quite a long time to recover and an even longer time to get around to talking to Ron again. During those weeks, Ron felt like Carl hated him for being the reason why he was stuck with a bandaged eye and he spoke to him often, especially about how much he missed his family, but if Carl wasn’t nodding or shaking his head, he wasn’t saying anything at all.

But Carl had walked up to him one day, seeing him sitting alone on the porch of the house he used to live in. He had been caught off guard and startled, used to lacking comfort from anyone. But he would never forget what Carl had said to him then.

_“I finally found you, Ron. I was waiting for you to come by and vent to me like you always do.”_

Since then, this was the fourth time they were outside the walls. It wasn’t considered a run because they were just walking, and if they encountered a walker, they killed it. No big deal. Ron was just always hoping that they never did because Carl always expected him to take a knife to it instead. Yeah, practice meant a better chance at survival, but Ron wasn’t like Carl, he wasn’t _not_ scared.

Still, the leaves crunching under his shoes was a nice substitute to the mostly concrete ground of Alexandria. Today was particularly sunny, but the tall trees were blocking the light which honestly sucked because Ron actually liked the blinding sunlight, but oh well. He didn’t need it since trailing behind Carl was pleasant enough on its own.

That is, until they heard the ugly snarling of a nearby walker.

They both froze and went completely quiet in order to follow the sound. It only took Carl a few seconds before he was marching in the direction of the walker and Ron was following behind hurriedly.

“Watch out,” Carl warned as he walked up to the walking corpse that had most likely once been a pretty girl senior to them by a few years. Rick’s son pressed a hand to her chest to keep her back and then stuck a foot out, effectively tripping the walker and letting it to fall to the ground.

Ron quirked an eyebrow at the scene, watching Carl kneel down beside her and hold her down. “You’re a savage, Mr. Grimes,” Ron said, almost monotonously which left Carl rolling his eye, even though the smile on his face was clear and evident.

“If you think this is savage, then you haven’t seen anything yet, Mr. Anderson.”

“Well these guys have killed people left and right, and here you are, face-planting them into the hard ground like its nothing.” 

The way the corners of Carl’s lips tugged upward just slightly showed that he took those words as a compliment. Yet, he remained modest when he replied, “that’s because they aren’t hard to fight. Just hard to handle, especially if you’re scared or they’re in large groups. These guys are slow, but fear means hesitation, and hesitation can mean death. Now stop hesitating, this shouldn’t be new to you.”

Ron sighed, feeling the familiar sensation of impending doom he usually got when being around walkers. He really didn’t want to be anywhere near one, but at the same time, he knew he was going to have to deal with them for real one day. And he knew he couldn’t be afraid because it wasn’t guaranteed that Carl, or anyone in Alexandria for that matter, would be around to save him.

He tried not to think too much, pulling out his own knife from his pocket and kneeling down beside Carl. The walker was only held down by the back, purposely of course, because Carl was expecting him to aim for the head without too much help.

 

* * *

 

 

“That took you five seconds to do,” Carl said as he stood up from the now still walker’s body, watching Ron use the end of his jacket to wipe the blood off his knife. “You’re hesitating.”

“It’s not easy, you know.”

“I know,” Carl muttered, thinking back to the amount of time and the painful hardships it had taken him to get this far. “Trust me, I know it isn’t. I just want you to be able to protect yourself is all.”

Carl kept his gaze on Ron, hoping that he hadn’t upset the other with his words. Ron wasn’t making eye contact with him, still cleaning his knife even though it looked as if it were as clean as it was going to get. Eventually, his dark eyes fell to the walker’s body again, but not for the reason Carl was thinking.

“Ron, we can go if you-”

“Don’t move.”

Carl blinked, unsure of whether to be scared or not. “….Why?” He looked around, expecting there to be some walker that he might have not heard coming towards them–there was nothing. “Why can’t I move?”

Carefully and cautiously, Ron inched forward with steps soft enough to barely make noise even with the leaves underfoot. He crouched low, right beside the stiff walker and, suddenly lunged at something. “Gotcha!”

Trying to look at what Ron had apparently captured, Carl peered over his shoulder slowly. “What did you get? A bug?”

“No. It’s a grass snake-”

Ron didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Carl’s throat made the most horrified sound (it almost sounded like a squeal) and he was putting a good distance between himself and the other male.

Heart pounding out of his chest, Carl had found comfort in a new spot a few feet away, hiding behind a tree and peeking from behind it like a little kid. “What the hell, Ron?! Put that thing down!”

Ron was still in his initial, crouched position, hands held out in front of him as if completely surprised by the reaction he had just received. He looked absolutely dumbfounded and it took him a few seconds to connect two and two, glancing from the wriggling creature in his hand to the obviously frightened boy taking refuge behind a plant.

“Put the….uh, the grass snake down?” He asked innocently.

“YES!” Carl hissed.

Ron stared before holding the animal up so that it was easier seen by Carl, even with the distance that he was at. “……….this grass snake here?”

“I’m not playing with you, prick! Put it the fuck down or I’m leaving you!” Carl growled, retreating behind the safety of his tree. With his back against it, he closed his eye and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down.

_Okay, he had an irrational fear of snakes, so what? Somehow, that dumb green creature hasn’t been eaten by something yet and–and, that’s okay. That’s A-okay. That’s fucking fine. That’s fucking great. Just breathe–_

“Carl….” Came Ron’s voice, whispered and low.

When Carl opened his eye and turned towards Ron, who was standing beside him with his arms behind his back, he first noticed the mischievous smile on his face and assumed the worst.

“What did you do with the thing?”

Ron’s smile grew fucking wider. “You mean, the snake?”

“Yes, that thing.”

The Anderson nodded slowly. “I’m glad you asked. It’s nice to know that people care about that thing,” he drawled. “That thing is right here.”

Even though Carl expected it, he wasn’t prepared for Ron to pull the animal out from behind his back and practically dangle it in front of his face. It was bad enough that it wasn’t at least five feet away from him, but the fact that he had a front row seat to watching it worm and wiggle in Ron’s hand–he felt extremely close to having a heart attack and dying from a snake in a zombie apocalypse. 

He didn’t.

Instead, Carl jumped out of his own skin, so startled that he bumped the back of his head hard into the tree. The pain was there and it stung bad, but he was so scared that the only thing he could do was sink to the ground and curl into a defensive ball, hiding his face in his knees.

“Carl…?” 

He didn’t respond.

“Carl…” Ron tried again, this time shaking his shoulder.

Nothing.

Carl heard the crunching of leaves for a second, at first nearby, then fading, and then nearby again. When the sound stopped, he felt Ron get down beside him and wrap his arms around his smaller body.

“Carl? Carl, I’m sorry….” Came Ron’s voice, sounding genuinely apologetic and remorseful. There was a long pause, and Carl felt Ron’s head nudge against his own. “I walked away and put the snake down so that it’s nowhere near you. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were seriously freaking out at first.”

Silence.

“You’re always so tough when it comes to walkers that it seemed like bullshit to me that snakes really bothered you. I just thought they maybe grossed you out or something.”

Carl barely lifted up his head to peer at Ron. “…….really?”

It seemed to relax Ron, seeing Carl’s face again now, looking less terrified and more calm. He sighed, sounding relieved. “Yes, really. When I’m with you, I will never touch a snake again, I promise.”

“….really?” Carl asked again.

“I promise,” Ron repeated, pausing for a few seconds before that familiar mischievous smile came back to his face once again. “But not I, eye—like E.Y.E. Eye promise.”

“Fuck you.”

“EYE would if I could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYE AM GETTING THE F OUTTA HERE CUZ I’M SO SALTY RIGHT NOW. RON ANDERSON DESERVED BETTER DAMN IT—have a nice day guys. Thanks for the prompts~ keep them coming and I will get to them ^^ <33


	4. Dear Stalker Boyfriend

##  **Prompt: Ron is just doing his own thing around Alexandria. Carl thinks he’s gorgeous, develops a crush on him, and can’t help but spy on him. He gets a little crazy with it and gets caught by Ron but Ron thinks it’s funny and cute.**

 

Ron stepped out of his house with Judith in arms, followed by Sam who raced out the door and past his older brother in excitement. He yelled something about cookies to Ron which he responded with, “You’re going to annoy Carol if you keep asking for cookies every time we visit her. It’s not like we’re loaded on ingredients here, you know.”

Sam turned abruptly, already a few feet ahead of Ron. He shrugged his shoulders impatiently and said, “well I’ll never know if I don’t ask. Maybe she has some today!”

“You asked yesterday and she didn’t-”

“RON!” Sam cried.

“Okay, I’m coming! Jeez.”

Now Carl, who was sitting two houses down and across the street from Ron’s house with Enid, was _not_ being a stalker. He didn’t know that every once and awhile, Ron took Judith from Carol to give her a break or that every time he went to bring her back, Sam would obnoxiously tag along in hopes of getting cookies.

That was only something a stalker would know, and he was most definitely not one of those. He just happened to be around when it happened, usually. Alexandria was a small community after all, and Enid had picked this spot, not him.

“How come we’re always sitting here….like at this time, exactly?” Enid, who had been sitting next to him cross-legged in the grassy lawn in her habitual silence, inquired after watching the Jessie’s sons yell at one another.

“Do you have a problem with hanging out with a fellow kid and friend, Enid?” Carl asked sharply, hardly focused on the open comic book in his lap and more so watching the Anderson boys walk further and further away in the corner of his eyes. “I thought we were besties–or _something_ like that.”

Unknown to Carl, Enid cocked a comical eyebrow at him. “I guess. If besties stalk together, then that’s what we are cause we do it pretty often.”

Carl snapped his attention to her, blue eyes as wide as saucers and mouth slightly agape. He probably looked absolutely horrified because Enid’s normal bored expression contorted into amusement within seconds. The corners of her lips pulled upward until she was grinning.

“I knew it….!” She exclaimed.

“NO.”

Enid was bobbing her head with a smile plastered onto her face. “Mhmm! Come on, Carl. Admit it, you’re being a total stalker.” She leaned close and wiggled her eyebrows–something that Carl could never imagine her doing, and it honestly freaked him out a little. He didn’t ever want to see her do it again.

He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, rolling his eyes and pretending to get back to his comic. “Am not.”

She sighed. “Whatever. I’m not stupid,” she said quietly, no teasing in her voice this time. “We’re always in the same spot when we have so many other nice places to sit…we could even go outside the walls if we wanted to. Plus it’s been days and you’ve read like two pages of that comic. And on top of that, we’re always here when Ron leaves the house and I’d find it hard to believe that you’re stalking Sam.”

On the outside, Carl remained stone-faced, turning the page of his comic book even though he hadn’t even finished reading yet. But on the inside, Carl was cringing hardcore because he had just been found out and he really didn’t feel like admitting that he was a stalker. Hell, he had a hard time admitting it to himself these past couple of days.

He just couldn’t deny that Ron was so gorgeous. The first day he had came to Alexandria, he noticed Enid initially, having not seen a pretty girl his age for quite a while.

And he started hanging out with her more, thinking to himself that maybe, _just maybe_ , he was crushing on her.

Turns out that wasn’t the case at all.

He wasn’t crushing on the girl with the long pretty hair–nope. It seemed that he had a thing for the handsome guy she usually hung around with, and that guy wasn’t Mikey. 

Now, Carl didn’t want to admit it at first so tried to spend more time with Enid instead. It was almost as if he wanted to push his feelings towards her so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the fluttery sensation in his stomach every time Ron was around, or the way his heart seemed to get louder and more intense every time Ron so much as glanced at him.

Sometimes he couldn’t even maintain eye contact with the guy for too long or else he was awkwardly looking away, and god, he hoped Ron hadn’t noticed how _often_ he did that.

That would be so embarrassing. 

Enid broke his dragging train of thought when she spoke, rising to her feet slowly. “I’m going to go for a walk outside the walls. Want to come along?”

Looking down at the comic book that he had never even read the first page of, Carl shook his head. “Nah…I don’t feel like going out there right now. Maybe, tomorrow, if you still want to go, then.”

“Okay,” Enid said, turning to walk away. “You just keep it up, sport. Your stalker game is strong.”

Carl rolled his eyes, grinning. “Ha. So funny, I forgot to keep laughing.” He watched her give a silent thumbs up without turning back and when she was gone from his view, he closed the comic book and sighed in quiet revelation.

_Maybe, he was a stalker._

* * *

 

 

After taking a small nap, Carl stepped outside for some more fresh air–not that he didn’t get enough of it already. It was a bit sunnier than it had been hours ago and was definitely the kind of weather anybody would want to take a stroll in. 

He thought to take Judith, but when he went to go check on her, she was sound asleep in her crib and he decided not to disturb her sweet slumber. Careful not to wake her up, he left her room and went back outside again.

A walk without Judith was fine, though he enjoyed them better when she was tagging along because it made him feel more relaxed. He liked her little random giggles and the way she turned her head to smile at him when he called her name.

The thought of it now was making him smile and he almost completely missed the sleeping figure resting on the lawn across the street from him.

It was the blue that caught his attention; the same dark blue that resembled the jacket that Ron usually wore. And when Carl looked over, it was indeed that same jacket that Ron usually wore. 

And that was because the person who was lying in the grass was Ron himself, curled up like a peaceful sleeping child.

Now, Carl should have kept walking at this point because Ron Anderson was just lying there, sleeping– _so what_? From where he was standing, he looked extremely adorable– _but so what_? He should have been left where he was, _undisturbed_ , and Carl should have left and kept moving, right?

Except, Carl was already crossing the street after looking around to make sure that nobody was present to see just how much of a creep he was about to be. Honestly, he didn’t feel like he had any control of his legs and he wished he could make them stop, but they _wouldn_ ’t.

When Carl reached the sidewalk, he paused for a moment and silently cursed himself. Enid had been right, he was a total stalker, wasn’t he? He was actually sneaking up on Ron just to see how he looked while sleeping up close.

 _Jesus, Carl…..you can’t be serious right now,_ he thought to himself.

He almost managed to turn himself around, awkwardly bouncing from one foot to the other, but then he figured that if he was already this close, he might as well get closer. 

_There was no harm in that, right?_ He would take a peek and then he would make a mad dash for the hills because if Ron catches him, he’s royally _screwed_.

Carefully and cautiously, Carl inched forward with soft and agonizingly slow steps. It seemed that every foot that moved closer made his heart pound faster and every second made him regret his decision more, and more.

Yeah, he was a stalker most definitely. And it sucked, but he really, really, REALLY needed to see Ron’s sleeping face just once because he was positive that he would _never_ get the opportunity again.

Right beside the sleeping Ron, Carl crouched down just a little bit to get a better view and covered his mouth to hold back any possible noise that wanted to come out in that moment.

 _God, Ron Anderson was really cute when he slept._ Besides Judith, he had never seen someone sleep so softly before.

The way he was laid on his side, head buried in the grass as if it were a pillow had Carl’s stomach doing that fluttery thing again. Every aspect of his face was relaxed and at complete ease, and his breathing was so gentle that it could barely be heard.

He was even smiling a little bit, lips curled upward ever so slightly. It was making Carl’s heart rate quicken, and feeling the affect Ron’s smile had on him left him smiling as well.

_It made Carl wonder if he was dreaming about something nice, and if so, what was that nice thing?_

“Enjoying the view there, Carl?” Ron asked, with his eyes still closed.

Startled, the Grimes kid fell back into the grass and scooted away as if that would clear him of any stalker charges. He knew that Ron had caught him red-handed and he was unsure of how to play it cool, leaving him at a complete loss for words.

Ron was staring at him now, his smile wider than before as he sat up. “I didn’t take you for someone who enjoys watching other people sleep.” He said light-heartily.

Still unsure of how he could possibly turn the situation around, Carl said the only response that came to mind. “I don’t,” He snapped.

“Oh, so you just like watching _me_ sleep in particular?”

“NO.”

Ron tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

Carl took about five seconds to think of a believable excuse. “I was going to scare you in your sleep, but you woke up too fast.”

Showing absolutely no sign that he fell for it, Ron grinned. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I was watching you watch me through my eyelids and you sure took your sweet time so…”

“UGH!” Carl pulled his legs to his body and hid his face in his knees. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by his jeans. “This sucks so bad. I’m not a creep or anything, I swear.”

Laughing, Ron scooted closer and sat down right beside Carl, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together. He ruffled Carl’s hair gently and said, “don’t worry about it. I think it’s cute that I have a stalker.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“P.S. I love you cause I stalk you while you sleep, signed Carl Grimes,” Ron added, wrapping an arm around Carl’s shoulders and nuzzling his face jokingly.

“Die in a fire.”

“Or is it Carl **Crimes** because stalking is a crime…?” Ron whispered, obviously amused by his own joke. He then paused. “Wait, is stalking a crime? I don’t even know anymore.”

Carl raised his head and glared daggers at the older boy. “What I’m about to do to you in a second is definitely a crime.”

“Aw, man. I got one of those crazy stalkers. Now I’m worried. If you’re going to cut off my head and keep it, at least take me out to dinner first,” Ron winked and Carl groaned. “Oh, and spray my decaying head with lavender Fabreeze. That’s my favorite, okay, stalker boyfriend?" He didn't bother to wait for a response. "Okay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been uploading regularly along with my tumblr account guys! I've been unable to come on Archive, but was still able to be on tumblr so....yeah. I'll be slowly catching this up to date with my writing blog ^^
> 
> If you requested a rarl prompt, I'll get to it soon eventually! I'm suddenly being spammed with requests so its a bit crazy at the moment, sorry xD


	5. The Sun & the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty and short. Srry.

##  **Prompt: “Thank you for being my sun during the day. Let me be your moon during the night.” Carl is there for Ron as he grieves and Ron is there for Carl as he sleeps.**

The sun was already beginning to set and night was making its entrance, but there were two boys standing in front of the graves of all those who perished the night Alexandria fell. Neither of them were moving and hadn’t for almost an hour now.

This was because both of them were grieving.

Ron was grieving over the lost of his entire family. After his father was killed, he had wanted nothing more than to protect what he had left; his brother, Sam and his mother, Jessie. But within a single night, they were both gone and right before his very eyes, too, both overwhelmed and devoured by walkers.

Since then, Ron had barely said a word to anybody. The most he ever said was to Carl, and even that wasn’t much. He was usually just silent and responded with nods and shakes of his head, sometimes with small shrugs of his shoulders. 

Ron was hurting, and the hurting would not end.

On the other hand, Carl was grieving over the pain of his friend. He knew Ron was hurting, and he felt as if he couldn’t do anything about it. No matter what he said, it seemed to never really make Ron feel better and he was beginning to run out of ideas. As of late, the only thing he could do was accompany Ron to the graves everyday and watch him cry, only able to offer him the warmth of his own hand as he squeezed his in silence.

Ron was hurting, and the hurting had _no end_.

The worst part of it all was that this haunted Carl at night because when he closed his eyes; he saw it happening all over again, and he felt as helpless as he had that night, too. The nightmare was always so surreal because he could feel the horror he felt when Sam had stopped the group then. The way he started crying and shaking his head, ignoring Rick, Ron, and even Jessie’s attempts to calm him down.

He saw Sam get grabbed and surrounded by the walkers. He heard the boy’s horrible cries as he was eaten alive, and he heard Jessie’s sobs harmonize with her child’s screams, only serving to attract nearby walkers to her.

And Carl hated what followed afterwards. He hated when he turned to look at Ron, who was completely in shock, watching as his mom and brother were taken away from him. 

He looked like he wanted to cry. He looked as helpless as Carl felt, then.

And Carl was usually snapping out of his sleep at this point, jerking upright with a sweaty forehead and labored breathing. And he usually had to take a moment to regain himself, to remind himself that it was only a dream and that there wasn’t anything else he could have done to save Jessie or Sam.

 _You had done everything you could,_ Carl told himself, like he did every night.

He had to shake of the shivers that usually started to wrack his body because the cold sensation that had came from the fingertips of Jessie’s death grip on his wrist was taunting him.

 _Her hands had been so cold then,_ Carl remembered, like he did every night.

He had to close his eyes and wait for the reoccurring pain in his chest to subside because the clear memory of Ron after they made it to safety caused his heart to ache. 

 _He looked like he wanted to die with them,_ Carl thought, like he did every night.

And Carl would sit there in the darkness of his room, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes in hopes that he wouldn’t fall asleep again that night. But as he did, he thought about the aftermath of it all; the way he hardly left Ron’s side and treated him as if he were the world’s most fragile person, capable of breaking with even the slightest wrong move.

Things were different now, though. 

For one, Ron had accepted what had happened that night. His family was gone and as much as it hurt, he had to move on from it. Initially, he didn’t cry at all. He just stared into space, seemingly zoned out and lost.

Now, he cried. Almost everyday, in fact. But Carl knew that letting it out was better than keeping it in and even though he hated watching Ron’s eyes grow watery, he accepted it. And he offered his presence and a comforting hand.

In return, Ron offered his own presence at night and a warm body to ward off the nightmares. The bad dreams didn’t always keep away, but it was nice having somebody there to tell Carl that everything would be okay.

_He liked the way Ron rubbed soothing circles into his back until he fell asleep again and dreamed of something better._

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my writing tumblr here: http://writer-does-writing-k-kool.tumblr.com/  
> Follow my main tumblr here: http://xxxqueenjudasxxx.tumblr.com/
> 
> Requests are open here too, just comment or shoot me a message. The prompt can be pretty much anything (which is why this is not rated) and written as descriptive or a phrase/quote, etc.


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